


Grandma

by Tomboy13



Series: Tomboy’s AgentCorp stories [4]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:04:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomboy13/pseuds/Tomboy13
Summary: Lillian and Lena have been tentatively rebuilding their relationship. She has never met her granddaughters; that doesn’t stop her wanting to help.





	1. Chapter 1

Sighing, Lena slumped into the soft faux-leather arm chair that sat wedged between two huge bookcases in the Danvers-Luthor’s living room, a glass of wine larger than was probably wise clutched close to her chest. 

“Went well with Lillian, did it?” Her wife asked from where she lounged on the sofa, a paperback open in her hands and reading glasses that she swore blind she hardly needed perched on the tip of her nose.

Lena snorted, and took a defiantly deep slug of her drink. She rarely drank now, with two children under 8 and a third barely off the breast, but on those days where she saw her mother, she felt she was owed a few sips of booze. 

“It went fine until I let slip about Vee’s report card.” The CEO sighed, pressing her temple.

Alex chuckled, shaking her head. “It wasn’t that bad - she’s doing great in most subjects, she’s making friends and the teachers like her. It not like they said she was some sort of terrible wild-child, flipping over desks and setting fire to the school books.”

Lena looked at her wife incredulously. “Maths and science, Alex. She’s a Luthor and she’s failing maths and science.”

The older woman sighed. “H-okay, first off, she’s only half a Luthor. Secondly, she’s 8 years old, Lena, she can’t actually fail anything yet.”

“But they said she is falling behind! That’s as good as failing!” Lena groaned, burying her head in her hands. “Oh god, I’m a terrible mother. I haven’t been focusing enough on their education.”

Alex frowned. “Did Lillian say that?”

“She didn’t have to! I could see it in her eyes.” Lena peeked through her fingers at her spouse. “I can always tell what she’s thinking when it’s disparaging, you know that.”

Sitting up and placing her book down, Alex looked at the brunette, and smiled fondly. It was still early days into the youngest and the oldest Luthors repairing their relationship, working carefully to take the toxic mess it had been and turn it into something pure, something valuable to both parties. Lillian hadn’t even met the kids yet, Lena preferring to err on the side of caution, until her adoptive mother was able to show irrefutably that she had changed. Alex herself had been with Lena to see the matriarch a few times now, and had found it rather awkwardly endearing how hard both mother and daughter were trying to play the roles they felt expected of them, but it had been obvious that a thin layer of mistrust still coated each interaction.

“Babe, look at me. I’m sorry that Vee has been struggling a bit. I guess we’ve just gotten caught up with work and the baby, and that is going to change from first thing tomorrow morning, but I need you to believe me that you are not a bad mother. Our girls are so well loved, and they’re so happy, and sweet, and friendly because of it.” 

Lena beamed with pride in spite of herself. “They are aren’t they?”

“They really are. One day soon, your mother will meet them and be able to see that, ok? She’ll see that you are doing a wonderful job of bringing up strong, educated daughters, and she’ll respect that.”

Lena looked unconvinced, but nodded anyway. 

The thought of Lillian Luthor ever taking an interest in her grandchildren unless it was to knock her own daughter down a peg or to uphold the family name seemed far-fetched, but it was, afterall, Lena Danvers-Luthor’s secret hope, so she wasn’t going to argue too fervently against it.

On the mantelpiece, an antique carriage clock struck 11:45, the tinkle of the chimes covering up the dull “thunk-thunk” of metal hitting masonary at the front of the house.

.......................................................

Upstairs, the older girls were asleep in their shared room. The house was big enough for them to have separate rooms, but their mothers had thought it would be good for them to share. It meant constant companionship, and had taught the girls the values of patience, understanding and co-operation - and, on occasion, it had also lead to more mischief than their parents would have liked.

It was nice, Vera would happily admit, to have Edith so close, especially on the nights where the wind was howling or the dark seemed to take on tangible form, leaving Vee to dive as quickly as possible into the adjacent bed and hide under her sister’s covers until morning.

Tonight hadn’t been one of those nights to begin with, but now, with the clock pushing midnight, the eldest Danvers-Luthor child found herself awake, suddenly, and staring into the shadows that the orange glow of the nightlight only seemed to make thicker. She was trying to work out what had woken her. 

There was a faint creak, as of someone unseen shifting their weight on the loose floorboards under the window, and the sound of soft breathing that made the hairs stand up on the child’s neck. As she watched the corners of the room, there was the faint but very real clack-clack-clack of someone taking slow, measured steps; sweat stood out on her skin as the fear rose. There was no way she could get to Edith’s bed in time; there was no way to get to the door without going past the apparition getting ever closer. She could make out the outline of a tall, lithe figure now. It moved with purpose, and she was trapped, utterly trap-

“Good evening, Vera.” Lillian said quietly, the words clipped and clear. “I hear you have been failing science and maths.”

Vera stared at the woman in front of her, slack jawed. The intruder was certainly older than her mothers, with steel grey hair tied up in a pristine bee-hive, and a penetrating stare that made the blue-grey eyes shine like sea-smoothed stones. She wore a simple outfit of black combat trousers and a black turtle neck, and under one arm she carried a stack of papers, a thin book with a shiny cover poking out between the leafs.

Vera looked at the stranger, eyes wide, heart pounding, and did the only thing she could think of: tell the truth. “Yes, m’am.”

The woman smirked, holding out the wedge of documents at arms length and dropping them dramatically onto the bed, where they bounced and spread out in a sea of white. 

“ _We shall see about that_.” She smirked, eyes glinting. After a pause, she added. “You may call me Grandma.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you heard the name Luthor before, Mr Lucas?” Lillian said, blue-grey eyes twinkling with frost as she stared down at her prey. “No? Well, allow me to enlighten you. The Luthor family is proud, noble, loyal; we have enough wealth and resources at our disposal to shower our friends with generosity the likes of which you couldn’t begin to comprehend.” Lillian paused, before continuing in a lower octave, “We are also known to protect our own with a ferocity that those who have crossed us wished they had never had to witness, and we do not take abuse kindly. My name is Lillian Luthor, Mr Lucas, and I will safeguard my daughter and her family with terminal intensity for as long as I am walking this earth. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Seated at the yellow-painted picnic bench in front of her, Jake Lucas, aged six, looked like he was about to cry. 

Lillian narrowed her eyes. “I have rarely been known to be moved by tears, young man. Allow me to make it plainer for you. You will never again lay a finger on Edith, or any other of my grandchildren for that matter. Otherwise, I will be forced to ensure that retribution...escalates” The older woman raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, placing her hands flat on the wood and leaning in slightly closer to the boy. Her eyes never leaving the horrified child, she calmly raised her hand, and snapped her fingers.

From beind her, a veritable mountain of a man in a clean cut black suit and reflective sunglasses shambled forwards, holding in his meaty hands a small, shabby-looking teddy bear.

“Mr Tinkle!” Jake whispered, tears forgotten and eyes widening.

Lillian smirked, nodding, and snapped her fingers again. The man tore off one of the bears arms as if it were tissue.

“Consider this an indication of future events should you choose to disregard what I have said. I trust you understand my position.” Lillian said coldly, as her bodyguard threw the bear and its ripped arm onto the table, stuffing flying across the blonde child’s lunch of jam and banana sandwiches, white fluff floating away on the breeze. Turning to her associate, Lillian nodded curtly. “Come, Matthew, I believe we have made our point.”

Walking away, she allowed herself a small smirk. She was, she thought happily, getting the hang of this grandmothering thing.

....................................................

It had been 2 days earlier at one of the secret twice-weekly midnight tutoring sessions that she now insisted on holding with her granddaughters that Lillian Luthor had realised something was wrong.

They were learning about light refraction using a water bottle and a torch, and, because the girls were at least half Luthor, some absurdly complicated maths. Vera had her face pressed up against the bottle, wondering at the way her hand was distorted through the liquid, but Edith was sat morosely on her bed. She hadn’t spoken since Lillian had let herself in through the window, and it was beginning to trouble the scientist deeply.

Usually, the younger girl would be bouncing up and down, veritably vibrating with excitement on the days they did practical experiments, grinning the smile that made her grandmother’s cold heart ache. Today she had barely even lifted her eyes from where her hands lay folded in her lap.

Lillian pursed her lips, unsure of how to continue. She knew how she would have handled the situation with her own children when they were younger, but she was trying to be a different person now - trying to prove herself as a suitable care giver not just to the children, but also to herself, and maybe in doing so, her daughter Lena.

“Edith, is something wrong?” Lillian asked tentatively.

The six year old didn’t look up, but shook her head, auburn ringlets catching in the light of the torch.

“A kid at school is picking on her.” Vera, the oldest Danvers-Luthor child, hissed in a stage whisper.

The steel-haired woman blinked in surprise. “Why?”

Vera shrugged. “He’s a mean kid. He pushed her off the slide and he threw her book in the toilet and he told her she was ugly. I think it’s cause she’s small.”

Lillian regarded the younger child for a long moment, puzzling over how a good grandmother would handle such a situation. “Have you told your teacher, Edith?”

Another shake of the head.

“I...” Vera shuffled her feet, looking embarrassed. “I told him to leave her alone or I’d punch him.”

Lillian nodded approvingly. That would have been her own grandmothers advice on dealing with the matter, although, if Lillian thought about it, the suggested retribution would probably have been more permanent, and less physically demanding. “And?”

“Their teacher overheard and I got in trouble.” Vera finished, looking dejected. “That was the day he pushed her down.”

“I see. Have you told your mothers?” Lillian asked.

Both girls shuffled their feet. “No.”

“Why not?” 

“Don’t want to make them sad.” Edith finally whispered in a small voice.

The Luthor matriarch stared between her granddaughters; Edith had started crying quietly, great drops running down her nose and falling onto her pink and blue unicorn pyjamas. The older woman knew then that she would do anything to ensure she never see tears in those eyes again, knew instantly that she would fix matters with her own hands now and ever more, to lessen the burden not just on the Danvers-Luthor girls but also on her daughter. That was what a good grandmother would do, she was certain. 

“I’m glad you brought this to my attention, girls. Grandma will sort everything out.” That seemed to cheer them up a bit as Lillian turned her attention back to the experiment, explaining in concise terms how colour affected refraction. After a few minutes, she felt a warm, sweaty hand clamp around her wrist, and looked down to see Edith pressed silently into her leg, looking intently at the rainbow of colour flooding through the water bottle.

“Thank you, Grandma.” The little girl said quietly without looking up.

Yes, Lillian thought confidently; she was definitely getting the hang of grand-mothering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Lena gets suspicious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Boxing Day, I hope everyone had a good Christmas. Finally got around to finishing the next chapter, and fair pre-warning, I’m not a scientist, and I have no idea if any of the ‘science’ in this story (or any other story of mine) is even possible - I just choose words I like and go with it.

The petri dish was awash with colour. The bacteria growing there ranged from purple to bright bile yellow, and made Vera’s eyes light up as she pressed closer to get a better look.

“You will kindly not touch, Vera.”

“Yes Grandma.”

The older woman nodded approvingly. “Edith, have you put your gloves on?” 

On the bed next to them, the little girl bounced excitedly, jet black ringlets bobbing, waving her hands that now sported a set of too-big baby-blue latex gloves.

“Then you may come and inspect the bacteria.” Lillian said haughtily, wincing in shock as the six year old leapt off the bed and collided with her knees, wrapping her grandmother in a tight hug. Lillian patted the small head gingerly. “Yes, that will do Edith, thank you.”

Next to her, Vera snickered. Lillian raised an eyebrow, and the red-head stuttered to silence.

“Well then, girls,” The woman continued, patting her immaculate grey up-do to ensure not a hair was out of place, “we have successfully bred seven different types of bacteria in this dish, including a vibrio and neisseria highbred that we will need to be _very_ careful with.”

Vera looked between the dish and her grandma, wondering to herself how safe it was to have created a cross between food-poisoning and cold sores in a child’s bedroom. She decided to keep her concerns to herself. 

It had been weeks since the Luthor matriarch appeared in the Luthor-Danvers daughters’ bedroom in a leafy suburb of National City, and over that time, Vera had come to recognise something in the older woman that reminded her of her own mother; it was something in the way they carried themselves, in the way their eyes lit up with fire when they spoke passionately. It was something that made Vera feel very, very safe.

“Ok,” Lillian said glancing at the equipment lying on the closed lid of the mahogany toy chest in front of her, “Vera, do you remember how to focus the microscope? We-“

On the delicate black watch wrapped around Lillian’s wrist, a tiny red light had begun to blink. Across the room, the door knob began to twist, and the door started to open. 

“Girls, have you seen the microscope from my office-“

Lena stopped stock still in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of her. “Girls, what have I told you about going into my office without knocking? You can borrow my lab kit any time, but you need to ask first - I need this stuff for work.” 

Swallowing, Vera and Edith turned as one. They were alone in the room. The Petri dish, with its rainbow of colour, was no where to be seen.

“What’s going on here?” Lena asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing. She sniffed, and her brow crinkled. “Why can I smell perfume?”

“I...I borrowed some. At school. From Welcome.” Vera answered slowly. Behind her back, she crossed her fingers. 

Lena sniffed again, an odd look passing over her face. “Why is Welcome bringing perfume to school? It smells like the perfume your...” trailing off, the woman shook her head as if to clear unwanted thoughts. “Never mind. Are you finished with the microscope?”

Vera nodded, unplugging the state of the art model and carefully passing it to her mama. 

“Thank you, monkey. I’ll call you when your mom leaves work, and we can cook dinner together, ok?” The brunette said, taking the heavy microscope with one hand and with the other, chucking her eldest daughter under the chin with a fond smile.

“Ok mama.” The older Danvers-Luthor whispered as the door closed. Behind her, Edith started snivelling.

“Well, then.” Lillian’s voice drifted out from under one of the twin beds. “It seems the time has come for me to have to have a little chat with your mother, girls. Now, be good and help grandma up.”

.................................................................

The autumn leaves blew through the deserted park like confetti. Lena shivered and pulled the blanket she was currently using as a shawl closer round her body. She wasn’t sure when it had gotten so late in the year, but soon she was going to have to start making more formal arrangements to meet her mother, somewhere warmer, somewhere that the sight of the two women would pass without comment. An image of her mother sat in Starbucks brought an involuntary smirk to her face.

“I’m glad to see you can smile, in spite of the weather.”

The CEO froze. “Mother.”

Lillian slid demurely into the seat next to her daughter. The older woman was wearing a black suit with a pencil skirt, and a heavy Burberry rain coat, leather gloves completing the image of society heiress out for a stroll. No one would guess that she had once been the most high-profile prisoner at National City women’s prison until her release for good behaviour. 

“You can call me ‘mom’, you know. Or ‘mum’, or ‘mama’.” Lillian said critically. “No need to be so intensely formal.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Of course, _mother_.”

Lillian clicked her tongue. “I do so love our... what do you young people call it? Banter?”

“How are you keeping?” Lena asked, a gentle tone entering her voice. Her relationship with her adoptive mother had been carefully tended over the previous months, despite the soft sniping and careless sarcasm that both women used as a security blanket, and the youngest Luthor found herself increasingly caring about the older woman’s answer to that simple question.

“I am very well, thank you. I have been making enquiries about some potential employment opportunities.”

Lena frowned. “I thought your offshore investments were sustaining you.”

Lillian smiled. “Of course, but one can’t expect to milk a cash cow indefinitely before it runs dry.”

“If you’re struggling, I would be happy to-“ Lena began, but stopped abruptly when the matriarch’s hand came to rest on her knee. 

“That is very kind of you, Lena, but I want to do this the right way this time. If I’m starting again, I want to start with a clean slate.”

“Free of the Luthor name?” Lena asked with a twinge of bitterness.

“I am not ashamed of the Luthor name. It meant something else when I took it, and in spite of everything that’s happened since, I am proud to own it.” Lillian huffed, removing her hand from her daughter’s leg to readjust her glove. “But I am ashamed to say that I have always lived well on other people’s money. It should prove an interesting challenge to pay my way.”

“What are you looking to do? I could see if anyone has any openings.”

“That would be very kind, but I’m not sure you’d have the right connections for what I’m looking to do.”

“Which is?” Lena asked, genuinely curious, and slightly concerned.

Lillian rolled her eyes at the implication in her daughter’s tone. “I am thinking about moving into the education sphere.” 

There was a long pause, filled only by the sound of the city drifting across the landscaped field of the park. Lena searched her mother’s face for an ounce of humour, and found none. “You can’t be serious.”

Lillian raised her brow. “I am deadly serious, daughter.”

Without conscious thought, Lena scoffed loudly. “You want to be a teacher? You hate kids!”

The grandmother placed a hand on her chest in mock offence. “I absolutely do not. I admit in the past I may have been rather...cold to the younger generation. To...well, to you, specifically. But I am not the woman who treated you like an interloper any more, Lena. I am not the same woman who...who hurt you.”

The brunette swallowed, a sudden and unbidden lump forming in her throat. Lillian was frowning, and wiping carefully at her own eyes. The moment sat heavy between them.

“I know the mistakes I’ve made. I’ve had years to think about them, Lena. To think about you, and lately about your daughters. It’s made me realise more than ever how wrong I’ve been. Children aren’t just our future, to be bred and then left to the wolves. They’re there to be nurtured. I want to help towards that.”

“You’ve got a criminal record.” Lena said, quietly.

Lillian sat up straight, the look of remorse sliding behind her steely facade once more. “Of course, there will always be challenges.”

“What you said about...about my girls. You’ve thought about them?” The younger woman said gingerly.

“Often.” Lillian answered, shifting slightly in her seat. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that-“

“Do you want to meet them?” Lena rushed out, cutting her mother off.

“What?” Lillian blinked, shocked.

Lena sighed, running a hand through her black hair. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You seem different; so, so different. I can’t say I’m not still nervous, and we would have to take it slow, but if you wanted to be there...Edith has her school nativity play in a few weeks, and it would be a good chance for you to meet them both.”

“I would like nothing more than to come to Edith’s play. Does Alex...wouldn’t your wife mind?” Lillian asked, her voice almost reverential. 

“It was her idea, actually. She isn’t your biggest fan, but she wants what’s best for our children.” Lena heaved a breath. “And for me.”

Lillian nodded with uncharacteristic eagerness. “I promise you won’t regret this, Lena.”

“I hope not. I’ll email you the details.”

They spoke for a while longer, carefully avoiding any more weighted topics. Eventually, as the light began to fade, Lillian turned and picked up her handbag. “Well, I should be going. My curfew starts at 6pm.”

Lena nodded, and as she rose to give her mother a tentative hug, a familiar scent accosted her nostrils. “That perfume...the lavender one...I could have sworn I smelled that the other night.”

The older woman looked surprised. “Well, it isn’t an uncommon brand.”

The CEO nodded, looking momentarily uncertain. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t forget to email me those details; I shall make sure to bring my camera.” Lillian said, already walking away, leaving her daughter standing next to the bench, doubt blossoming in her mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Definitely getting the hang of this family thing”

“I know it sounds crazy, Alex, I just...can’t shake this feeling that she’s up to something.” Lena sighed, tapping her fingertips against her wife’s sternum absentmindedly. “She was acting suspiciously this afternoon, and yesterday I could have sworn I smelt her perfume in the kid’s room. What if she’s been in the house? What if she’s trying to contact the girls?”

They were tucked up in bed, lights off and cocooned in a thick duvet, Lena held tightly in Alex’s arms. The house around them was silent. This was _their_ time, the rare minutes before sleep when they could talk and cuddle and be in love, without children or jobs or responsibilities that took up nearly every other moment of their days. It was a time for comfort, for working through their problems, and checking the strands of their lives were still weaving perfectly together. 

Alex turned her head to breathe in the smell of the younger woman’s hair, squeezing her arms tighter around the woman’s figure. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, babe, I just don’t know how she’d get in. Or why. You’ve got this place on lockdown, and Lillian’s never indicated that she gives a second thought about our girls.”

Lena tensed in her spouse’s strong arms. “She told me today she does. Think about them, I mean.”

Alex frowned. “She does?”

Lena nodded, turning her head to press her mouth into the older woman’s shoulder for a moment. “She was really keen to come to the play.” She whispered, moving back just enough to get the words out.

“Well that’s good, isn’t it? You’ve told me yourself that she seems different, more willing. I just don’t think she’d jeopardise the ground you’re making by trying to contact the kids before you’re ready.”

“I know but she doesn’t think like that. She can be so single minded. She gets an idea and she just goes at it with everything she has, whether it makes sense or not.”

Alex snorted. “I wondered where you got it from.” Seeing her wife’s anxious grimace, the agent sighed. “Look, babe, I honestly don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. But just in case, I’ll get Vas down here, and we’ll do a sweep, maybe a bit of surveillance, just to put you’re mind at rest, ok?”

“Ok.” Lena agreed quietly, the arrangement in no way abating the anxious bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Seeking comfort, she nestled deeper into her wife’s side, feeling strong arms tighten around her own bare shoulders.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, babe. I’ll never let anything happen to you or the kids.”

“I know.” The younger woman agreed, letting a little of the weight she was carrying leave her body. “Everything will be fine.”

......................................................

It was on the third meticulous search of the house that Susan Vasquez found the sensor. In spite of their talk, Alex has waited until she knew Lena would be at work and the kids would be out, trying to prevent fuelling Lena’s panic or losing the upper hand if the girls were in on whatever it was that was going on. It hurt the older Danvers sister to think that way, and had made the whole operation more frustrating. Alex has been moments away from giving up, feeling the first flush of relief bubbling in her gut - was slowly putting the books back on the shelves in the living room - when Vasquez called her upstairs.

It was small, barely big enough to cover the head of screw, and it had been tucked into the bolt hole on the skirting board that ran the length of the main landing, halfway between the stairs and the eldest children’s room. Further examination found another at the other end of the landing, hidden behind the light switch outside the nursery, and in the corner of the framed family photo that hung opposite Alex and Lena’s own bedroom.

“They’re unbranded, and they don’t have a serial number. No indication of fingerprints or DNA. Someone is really keen that this not be traced.” Vasquez said solemnly, looking down at the three black circles where they sat on the palm of her boss’s hand.

Alex bit her lip, looking thoughtfully back towards her daughter’s room. “It’s Lillian.”

The other agent visibly baulked. “How can you be sure?”

“Lena thought she was acting suspiciously when she saw her, and she thought she’d smelt her perfume in the girls’ room. It’s too much of a coincidence.” Alex rubbed her hand through her hair, sighing loudly. 

There was very little in her that had trusted or would ever trust the Luthor matriarch; there was too much bad blood between the woman and Alex’s sister, and too much done and said between Lillian and Lena for her to ever really let that trust grow, but the Danvers was nothing if not a loving wife and mother, who would do anything to see her family safe and happy. She’d watched and even encouraged the bond between the estranged mother and daughter, seeing the faint tint of hope it brought to the younger. It hurt to think the damage this revelation would do, both to their relationship and to Lena.

“Keep this to yourself for now.” Alex finished glumly, curling her fingers around the devices and shoving both hands into the deep pockets of her black combat trousers. “I want to get to the bottom of this before I bring it up with Lena or the kids.”

Vasquez nodded slowly, looking sceptical, but said nothing.

........................................................

The break ins were getting harder as the weeks went on. 

Lillian Luthor has always taken great care to keep herself trim and strong, in a feminine sort of way. Even in prison, she’d taken her morning jog, first around the seclusion cell, and later on around the cramped exercise yard. She’d even given some of the other inmates yoga lessons, something which had not only given her a solid shield of protection inside but also helped inordinately during her parole hearing. Nevertheless, she wasn’t a young woman, and scrambling up sheer walls and through crawl spaces was becoming increasingly taxing on her body; she never used the same route two times in a row, and had taken painstaking care to conceal all evidence of her clandestine visits to her granddaughters. But it _was_ tiring, and that was a good enough excuse for the sloppiness that had led her to this moment, standing with one leg in and one leg out of the second storey window, her hands held open above her head in defeat.

“Well, this is a surprise.” Lillian said calmly, eying the other figure in the room.

Seated on the chest of draws at the end of Vera’s bed, taser pointed directly at the Luthor’s sternum, Alex Danvers-Luthor regarded the older woman dispassionately. 

“Before we start, let me assure you this is not the children's’ fault.” Lillian continued in the face of the unwavering stare. “They didn’t turn me away because they’re too kind. Too sweet. You mustn’t be angry at them.”

The tension hung in the air, thick and bitter. After an excruciatingly long silence, Alex sighed, and lowered the taser. “What are you even doing here, Lillian?”

The grandmother took the chance to pull her trailing leg all the way through the window, and, hissing, bent to rub some feeling back into her knees. “Lena told me that Vera was was struggling in her studies. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to encourage academic excellence.”

Alex paled, remembering some of the stories Lena had told her about her mother’s methods for ‘encouraging excellence’ in her children, the constant manipulation of carrot and stick and, more often than not, an even bigger stick. Seeing her daughter-in-law’s expression, the older woman rolled her eyes melodramatically.

“Don’t look so alarmed, I’ve rather grown in...” Lillian waved a hand airily, “...maternal instinct since Lena was a girl. I know I was rather Machiavellian in my techniques with my own children. It seemed like it was for the best at the time but now...”

Alex eyed the woman sceptically, one eyebrow arched. “Now?”

Lillian huffed. “Well, look where that got me. Both Lex and Lena were brilliant, and it sent my son mad and my daughter won’t even let me meet my own grandchildren.”

“Yet here you are.” The agent answered, in a tone of voice laced with false comfort. “Standing in my house, in my children’s bedroom, like a thief in the night.”

Lillian straightened up, placing her hands on her hips. “Hardly. My intentions were excellent, I assure you. I only have the family’s best interests at heart. Haven’t you seen an improvement in Vera’s academic performance? In Edith’s confidence?”

The brunette’s eyes flickered slightly, unconsciously acknowledging the statement.

“Quite.” Lillian said proudly. “I have nurtured their talents and their spirits, so that my daughter and her wife didn’t have to. I’ve given you time to focus on your work, on your relationship, and on...what’s the baby called?”

“Florence.” Alex said, annoyed. 

“Yes, Florence. She’s rather too young for my influence to be of benefit yet, of course.”

“I see. And what was in it for you?”

Lillian frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Alex rose slowly from her seated position, and stepped forward. When she spoke, her voice was cold. “What was in it for you? You don’t do anything without some sort of self gain.”

“I...I got to spend time with my family.” Lillian said quietly, brow furrowed in confusion. She looked lost, Alex thought, and for the first time a twinge of sympathy nagged in her stomach for the old lady standing in front of her, in black military fatigues and technically advanced climbing gear. “I wasn’t alone anymore. I was...helping.”

“You should have asked.”

“I knew you’d say no.”

Alex nodded, slowly. “Maybe. But you should have asked anyway.”

Lillian let her head drop, leaning heavily against the windowsill behind her. “So what now? Are you going to call the police? Taser me? Lock me up in one of your special facilities?”

Alex allowed herself a wry smile. “Not this time.”

“What then?” The old woman asked, a little of the bite returning to her voice.

“Now, we’re going to go downstairs, I’m going to call my sister and ask her to bring Lena home, and you’re going to explain everything to her.” Alex shook her head, looking regretful. “I can see why you did it, in a fucked up way, but this isn’t my decision to make.”

Lillian swallowed. She eyed the taser ruefully, wondering if it which option would be less painful.

........................................................

It took less than 15 minutes for Supergirl to arrive, looking worried and carrying the CEO of L-Corp in her strong arms bridal style.

Lena’s face was apoplectic. She’d been mildly suspicious when Alex had suggested an impromptu besties night for her wife and sister; had been even more curious when it was revealed at the last second that the girls would be going to visit Eliza in Midvale for the weekend. But Lena trusted her spouse, and had let it slide...right up until the moment she heard the words “you were right” down the phone. She hadn’t had to ask what she’d been right about.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” Lena demanded as soon as her feet hit the floor, marching towards her adoptive mother with cold anger.

“Lee, can we-“ Alex began, holding out her hand in a conciliatory gesture.

“No.” The business woman hissed, turning to face her wife. “How long have you known? And you kept it from me!”

“Only tonight!” The agent cried, surprised to find herself the object of Lena’s fury. “We found a bug last week, but I only confirmed it tonight!”

There was a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of the ticking clock on the mantel piece.

“Last. Week.” 

“I wanted to be certain.” Alex answered carefully.

“You’ve known that she,” the younger Luthor jabbed an vengeful finger towards her mother where the older woman stood, hands clasped in front of her beside the fireplace, “was spying on us in our _home_ since _last week_ and you didn’t tell me? Why?”

Alex opened her mouth to respond, to apologise, but Lillian started speaking before any words came out. “Well, I for one can’t think why your wife wouldn’t want to tell you when you’re behaving so maturely about it.”

“How dare you, mother.” Lena growled. “You come into my home, accost my daughters for god knows what purpose, and-“

Lillian sighed loudly, petulantly. “Yes, yes, I’ve already had this conversation with the agent here. I was wrong to try and circumvent you to get close to my grandchildren. It was wrong to try and support them without your permission. And yes, in hindsight, breaking into their room in the dead of night dressed all in black _May_ not have been the most sound decision I’ve ever made-“

“You’re the shadow ninja!” Kara said, surprised. “Edith has been having nightmares.” She added helpfully when the other 3 women turned to stare.

“Yes, thank you for that.” Lillian said, annoyance lacing every word. “As I was saying, I have made several...questionable choices to get to this moment, and I will manage those consequences. But you’re being ridiculous. Your wife isn’t to blame. The kids aren’t to blame. Not even Ms Zor-El over there with her big wooden spoon is to blame. Stop acting like a child.”

Lena gasped. “I-“

“Stop acting like the woman I raised you to be, Lena. Don’t act like...like me.” The older woman interrupted softly; the lost look was back, and it made the younger women frown. “You’re better than that.”

Ignoring the heavy tension in the room, Lillian strode through the open plan living room, into the hall and towards the front door. “Now, as it seems I’m not under arrest, and being quite keen to keep it that way, I’m going to leave. I would very much still like to come to Edith’s school play next week, although I understand if that offer is off the table. I’ve been giving her some pointers on her diction. We watched the Royal Shakespeare Company’s 1948 recording of Hamlet to get her in the spirit. That probably hasn’t helped with the nightmares, in hindsight. Anyway, Good evening.”

Lena watched her mother go, watched the door click shut. Turning back to her family, she held her arms out, tears breaking free of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. That’s not how we are.”

She was engulfed by two sets of Danvers’ arms, wrapping her tightly in an embrace that went on until the sobs subsided; whispering kindnesses filled the room and drifted lovingly around the house.

From outside of the window where she stood watching, Lillian smiled smugly. “Definitely getting a hang of this family thing.” She muttered happily, before melting into the bushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any spelling or grammatical errors; if I didn’t leave them in, how would you know for sure it was me?


	5. Chapter 5

The apartment block was just a dilapidated 4 storey, on the corner of a street that Lena had never even heard of. The windows on the ground floor were barred with thick metal, and there were weeds growing out of the cracks in the concrete steps that led up to the battered double doors of the entrance hall.

“This is it?” Alex asked incredulously.

Lena huffed a breath out through her nose and tightened her hand on the strap of her bag. “Apparently.”

“I can’t imagine your mother even stepping foot in this neighbourhood, let alone living somewhere like this.” Alex said, looking around suspiciously at the people walking by. The area seemed to live outdoors, on the street; every step had a person sat on it, watching the urban theatre happening around them. The sound of children shouting as they played tag up and down the pavement and of couples arguing through open windows made for a cacophony that even drowned out the roar of elderly motor cars and the whine of cheap-end scooters.

“I’m certainly seeing why she never wanted me to pick her up.” Lena agreed.

“Um, excuse me. Sir? Excuse me, can you not...” Turning, the couple saw Kara rushing around the drivers side of the nearly new, pristine white Chevrolet SUV that Alex had parked moments earlier, and where a man wearing dirty ripped jeans and an off-colour tank top had casually begun to try the each of the locked doors. “Sir, can you just-I-Oh, screw it.” Alex snorted as her sister carefully gripped the man on either side of his torso, lifted him off the floor, and pivoted him onto the pavement. 

The man looked down at his feet, stared blankly up at Kara, her face in an indignant pout and her hands firmly on her hips, and then ambled away without a word.

“Come on, we’ll go in. Kara can keep an eye on the getaway vehicle.” Alex said with a smirk towards her sister’s horrified expression.

Lena managed a small smile, but it was false, and tight, and even less reassuring than the frown it replaced. “Ok. Let’s go.”

The inside of the building was not as bad as the outside would suggest. Worn but clean linoleum stretched the length of the hallway, with old fashioned dark-wood pigeon holes with discreet metal locks on the doors for mail. A door to one side read “Concierge” in elaborate gold letters on the frosted glass.

Alex knocked on the glass firmly. 

The door was opened by a woman in her early seventies, with grey hairs peppering her close cropped buzzcut and lines starting to crease her ebony skin. She wore an expression of polite scepticism. “Can I help you, ladies?”

“We’re looking for Lillian Luthor, I believe this is her address?” Alex said, smiling.

The woman narrowed her eyes. “We don’t give out information on who does or does not inhabit this building. I suggest you leave, and call your friend yourself.”

“Please,” Lena said, stepping forward when she saw her wife moving to grab her badge. “My name is Lena Luthor. I’m Lillian’s-“

“You’re the daughter?” The woman said carefully, a manicured eyebrow raising suspiciously. “You have ID?”

Lena nodded, pulling out her driving license. The older woman examined it carefully, before handing it back with a smile.

“I apologise, we’ve had some trouble with the press, and other never-do-wells trying to find your mother. Can’t be too careful. And you are?”

Alex jumped forward, holding her hand out. “Alex Danvers-Luthor. Lena’s wife.”

“Karen.” The cocierge said, shaking the hand warmly. “You’re the federal agent, then?”

Lena’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Lillian...talks about us?”

“Oh, now and then. When we have our girls’ nights. She’s very proud of you, and those girls of yours. Gets the family photos out every chance she gets!” Karen said flippantly, a chuckle in her tone. “You want me to call up, tell her you’re here?”

“That would be wonderful.” Alex said, when it became apparent that Lena’s shocked silence showed no signs of abating. Karen looked between the couple in front of her, apparently still calculating, before disappearing into her office again and closing the door. “You ok?” Alex whispered to her wife as soon as the door closed, placing a gentle hand on the younger woman’s lower back.

“Yes. I just...” Lena huffed, her voice trembling. “Lillian...saying...saying she was...is...”

“Proud of you?” Alex finished tentatively.

“Proud of me.” Lena repeated, shaking her head. “She’s always been so critical of everything - my work, my appearance, relationships - everything. Now to find out she’s going around bragging about me...it’s a lot to take in.”

“Well, don’t sound so perplexed.” A familiar voice sounded behind them. “You have done a lot to be proud of, Lena.”

Lillian stood on the stairs, her hand on the polished wooden bannister that wound its way up to the floors above. Her steel-grey hair was hanging in loose curls, and she wore a baby blue cashmere twin-set and pressed black slacks. The polished veneer was slightly marred by a pair of knitted pink boot-slippers.

“Mother.” Lena said with an edge of cold in her voice. “You’re looking well, if slightly reduced in circumstances.”

Lillian scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh Lena, are we really going to continue down this road? Very well, let me get it out of the way. Yes, the area is rather more _exciting_ than I’m used to, but the building is incredibly well kept by Ms Lucas, and I like living somewhat less high profile than I may have previously. Yes, it is sometimes a struggle to make ends meet given the new leaf I have chosen to turn over, and no, I am not supplementing my income with anything nefarious or unsavoury. Anything else?” Lena sighed, and shook her head. “Good. Would you like some tea?”

Trailing upstairs after the Luthor matriarch, Lena saw that the apartment block was indeed very clean and carefully maintained; the walls were painted a light mint green, and lined to shoulder height with dark varnished wood. The light fittings and door knockers were old fashioned brass, polished to that they shone in the sunlight filtering through the cut glass windows on each landing. The steps were faux marble, with a dark green strip of carpet running up the centre, the threads worn almost bare with age. The whole building carried the air of cigars and fine whiskey, like a page from an Agatha Christie novel brought to life. It was, Lena though, very Lillian.

Lillian’s apartment was number 6, on the third floor. Lena and Alex were ushered into the living room and directed to sit on the slightly musty sofa that faced an open fire place in the middle of a room packed with furniture and paintings, so tightly crammed in fact that it made the remaining space feel almost claustrophobic. Lena realised with twist of her stomach that she recognised several of the items from her childhood.

“She must have crammed half of the Luthor mansion in here.” Lena whispered, eyes wide. Alex rubbed the back of her neck, unsure of what to say.

The clatter of tea cups on a tray broke the silence, as Lillian strode into the room. “Here we go. I only had English breakfast tea in, I’m afraid. I do hope that’s sufficient.”

“I’m sure that will be fine, mother.” Lena swallowed thickly as she watched the grandmother pour out the tea, the pattern of the china pot bringing back a host of unpleasant memories.

“Well.” Lillian said, setting down the teapot and clapping her hands together. “Let’s get to the point, shall we? To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Alex glances between the two women, feeling the air thicken with tension. Clearing her throat, the agent began. “The girls were rather upset, after finding out that your...secret...had come out.”

“I see.” Lillian looked down at her hands, her fingers twining together. “I am very sorry to hear that.”

“They’ve become quite attached to you, over the time you spent together.” Alex continued, picking each word with uncharacteristic care. “The thought that they wouldn’t be allowed to see you again was hard on them.”

“As it was on me.” Lillian responded quickly, swirling the tea in her delicate china cup.

“I can imagine.” Alex answers honestly. “We-“

“I’m a good mother.” Lena interrupted, her eyes burning.

“I never suggested otherwise.” The grandmother answers with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“I never, ever wanted to hurt my children.” Lena continued, her eyes never moving from her mother’s. “You need to understand, I will do anything I feel necessary to protect them.”

“And you need to understand that I would expect nothing less.” Lillian said curtly, placing her cup down on the coffee table with pointed force. “I don’t know to what ends you think this little speech is required, Lena, but I can assure you that I never doubted either yours or Agent Danver’s commitment to those girls. I wish you wouldn’t doubt mine.”

The air hung heavy for a moment, the three women engrossed in each other’s faces as they searched for a way forward.

Lena broke the silence first, heaving a great sigh and smacking her knees with the palms of each hand. “Ok. Here’s what we are going to do to get over this little impasse.” Biting her lip, the brunette squinted at her mother for a long, tense second before continuing. “You may, if you are free, attend lunch with us at our house tomorrow afternoon.”

Lillian’s eyes widened slightly, but otherwise no other emotion played across her face. “I shall ensure I rearrange my calendar. What time shall I arrive?”

“1pm. Arrive by the _front_ door this time, please.”

“I shall. Do you need me to bring anything?” Lillian countered, making a show of pulling a small pocket diary from her handbag that hung on the back of the chair she was sitting in, and writing the appointment down.

“Your best behaviour.” Lena said coldly. “This is it, mother. This is you final chance. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t even be getting this much, but I won’t hurt our daughters for my own sake. Please understand that I don’t trust you. I don’t trust you to do the right thing by my children, and the second I think you’re proving me right, you are out. Done. Finished.”

Standing, the CEO held out her hand to her wife, pulling the startled woman through the cramped room towards the front door. “Prove me wrong, mother.” Lena hissed, slamming the door behind her.

Silence filled the room, trickling back in like treacle among the dusty, dead antiques of the Luthor lineage. Lillian stared at the door, unblinking, letting the calm embrace her, a grin gently breaking the facade that she’d held in for the last twenty minutes.

One more chance, that was all she’d need.

——————————————————————

Vera was freaking out.

Both of her mothers were fretting. They’d insisted that she wear her nice jeans, the dark blue ones without any rips, and the soft red flannel button down that she’d saved her pocket money for and only worn once, to Edith’s school play. Edith had been instructed to dress in her cleanest pair of leggings, and the glittery unicorn sweater with the pom-poms that was definitely, absolutely for best only. Even Florence had been shoved in a dress, the peach cotton front now decorated with a liberal layer of dribble; she was teething, and in between screaming and shoving inanimate objects in her mouth, was a fountain of spit that Vera was sure would never end.

“Mom, what’s going on?” She asked, shifting the baby up onto her hip as she watched her mother hurry towards the table with the Christmas plates.

“Nothing sweetie. Just getting everything ready for lunch.” Alex smiled, reaching across for Florence. The baby cooed loudly, pudgy arms waving as she was moved, a gummy grin on her face.

“You’ve set an extra place.” Vera said, nodding at the table, where Edith stood on tip toes, one finger in her mouth and the other poking at the extra set of cutlery. “There’s napkins.”

Alex sighed. “We’ve got a guest coming over, but your mama wanted it to be a surprise, ok?”

The elder child shrugged, more taken in by the mystery than she cared to admit. “Ok.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Four voices called at once, both women and both girls rushing towards the front door. From her mother’s arms, Florence giggled at the sudden commotion, yanking a hand from her mouth and leaving a trail of goo across her mom’s sky blue shirt.

Lena got to the door first, by some miracle; a spatula dripping red sauce was still clutched in one hand, and she’d forgotten to remove the joke pinny that Winn had brought, which read “What’s Cookin’, Hot Stuff?” in neon pink letters. Taking a big breath, she opened the door.

“Gosh, I do hope I’m not early?” Came a familiar voice, dripping in amusement.

“GRANDMA!” Edith and Vera shouted together, rushing forwards to leap bodily into the older woman standing on the step.

“Well hello to you too, girls.” Lillian said, looking slightly startled but recovering quickly enough to wrap both grandchildren in a matronly hug. Lena and Alex gawped at the display of uncharacteristic affection. “And hello to you both, ladies. I hope you don’t mind terribly, I brought my good friend Karen along. I believe you met her the other day?”

“Hi again.” The concierge smiled jovially from behind Lillian’s back, waving a bottle at the grown ups. “We brought wine.”

“And presents for the little ones!” Lillian said, never taking her eyes off her grandchildren, nodding encouragingly to her handbag.

“Well.” Said Alex, clearing her throat. “Please, do come in. I’ll...uh...get that wine open.”

For the first time in a long time, Alex rued being tee-total. A little alcohol to grease the wheels would have helped her with whatever was going on considerably. 

—————————————————————

The lunch had gone well. Better than well, if Lena was being honest with herself. Lillian had been wonderful with the kids, even offering to hold the baby for a time, albeit with all the gingerness one might hold a live grenade. Karen, on the other hand, had positively melted over the youngest child, insisting on feeding and burping her, and even laughing uproariously when Florence had aggressively vomited pale yellow sick down the woman’s mock denim shirt. Lena had watched in awe as her mother had politely complimented the food, and asked with almost genuine interest about Alex’s work. She’d even restrained the snark when Lena spoke about some of L-Corps new projects. It was like she was a different woman.

“That was...weird, huh?” Alex asked, chuckling as she slid onto the porch swing that overlooked the Danvers-Luthor’s spacious garden.

Lillian and Karen has left around 7, after staying for an informal dinner. It had been clear that neither the girls nor the grandmother had been ready to separate, but promises of an outing to the park the following weekend had quieted the majority of the grumbling.

Lena laughed, leaning into her wife’s side and resting her hand on the other woman’s strong thigh. “It was. I didn’t realise she actually had it in her to be like that.”

Alex nuzzled her lover’s cheek. “People change for the better. I changed. We both did. Time does that to people.”

In front of them, their eldest children were playing tag, although the game was slowing down as fatigue overcame both girls. On the bench next to them, the baby monitor was playing the gentle sound of Florence’s snoring. Lena felt very content, and a little more hopeful than usual. “I’m lucky.” She said quietly.

“We’re both lucky.” Alex agreed.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, building up the energy to start putting tired children to bed and tidying up the house from the unexpectedly wonderful day.

“Karen seems nice.” The older woman commented absently.

Lena hummed her agreement.

“They’re banging, right?” 

“Oh my god, Alex!” Lena laughed, swatting at her wife’s arm. Alex dodged out of the way quickly, chuckling.

“What?! I am pretty sure I saw them canoodling when they got int the car.”

The youngest Luthor shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. “Well if they are, god help Karen.”

Alex went to answer, but was cut off by a loud wail from the lawn, where Vera was sat nursing two very grazed knees.

“I’ll get the antiseptic wipes.”

“I’ll get the kid.” 

—————————————————————  
Far across town, the words were almost drowned out by the sound of the streets and police sirens shrieking. Lillian Luthor nodded approvingly at the baby monitor she held in her hands.

“You’re doing fine, Lena.” The older woman whispered, listening into the sounds of the lush detached house via the baby monitor that she had managed to bug earlier that afternoon on an unsupervised trip to the bathroom. Only for emergencies, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely random and based off a comment conversation with Silentlucidity on Just Another Tuesday; I have a secret soft spot for Lillian “Super Villain” Luthor and I am not ashamed of it.


End file.
